


We Could Get Better (Because We're Not Dead Yet)

by Biromantic_Nerd



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: AU, Aftermath of Torture, Also we're just going to ignore the Allison/Luthor because Lord give me strength I can't do it, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and guns mention, But I tagged it anyways, Canon levels of violence, Canon themes of addiction are mentioned, Canon up to That Scene and then I run with it and turn it into a heal-it fic, Canon-Typical, Canon-Typical Violence, Don't Post To Another Site, Don't copy to another site, Episode: s01e04 Man on the Moon, Friendship, Gen, Hargreeves Family Reconciliation, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort y'all stay with me, Mentions of childhood abuse, No Incest, No Romance, Patch-centric fic, Platonic Relationships, Reconciliation, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Violence, abuse mention, addiction mention, also I think this story is a lot softer than the tags make it sound, friendship/family, hargreeves family - Freeform, hint hint this is an AU, they were just. bff's. yeah.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2019-11-13 19:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18037601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biromantic_Nerd/pseuds/Biromantic_Nerd
Summary: Diego's brother has his arms around himself, hands securing his coat and towel around his bloody, mostly bare body in white knuckled grips, one of the guns he secured on his lap, eyes squeezed closed.She should really take him to a hospital.(AKA, Canon divergence where Patch and Klaus become friends after That Scene, Diego tries to be a better brother, the Hargreeves try to be a family, and the apocalypse gets a bit delayed.)





	1. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

**Author's Note:**

> In this story:  
> • This starts off heavily episode-based - episode 4 - but veers into AU very obviously.  
> • Klaus is pansexual and doesn't identify as cis but doesn't have a label for his gender. Patch is bisexual because I said so. Diego is demiromantic, and you can't change my mind. Vanya is a lesbian, obviously.  
> • The whole Hargeeve family is platonic. We're not doing the Allison/Luthor thing, not in front of my salad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how Cha Cha got from the bathroom to the hallway in canon, and I'm angry about that plothole and needed to fix it, which kind of changes a couple things in domino effect. Changes a lot of things, really.
> 
> This is a Patch pov fic, baby!

________________________________________________

 

 

The door opens, and Diego's brother is there - bound to a chair and gagged, naked except for the blood dried on his skin, and openly crying. 

 

And even though she expected to find him, Patch feels like she's been sucker punched by the sight. 

 

"Are you Diego's brother?" She checks, and he nods in quick succession. "I'm Detective Patch." She doesn't know if that means anything to him, if he recognizes the name; but surely, she hopes, he'll know he's being saved. 

 

His eyes widen and then he jerks his head frantically towards the back of the room, eyes wide; there's a closed door. She nods, raises a finger to her lips, and approaches him. He quiets down his nonsensical, desperate noises behind his duct tape gag. 

 

Patch considers her options - and she does so _quickly_ \- as she starts to cut Diego's brother loose. There's a chance that she could free his brother, apprehend his adductor that's behind the closed door - who is seemingly more and more likely involved with her own case - and even wrap this whole thing up with an arrest. On the other hand, if the abductor is involved with her own case, they're not to be underestimated - or undercounted. There's two of the masked suspects, and she can't count on Diego arriving as backup in time if one or both of them are here. But this is the closest she's been. Her best shot. The smart thing would be to finally nail these bastards. The important thing, she knows, would be to get Diego's brother to safety. 

 

The first wrist to be freed, he flexes his fingers and rolls his wrist like he's forgotten what it feels like to have the ability to do so. 

 

Diego's brother looks up at her with wide eyes and he pushes himself off the chair to stand with her assistance with one hand and the other other clutching at a towel to keep it closed around his waist, wobbling unsteadily like his legs can't support him. She's unsure of how fast to push him, if it's the trauma making his limbs shake or an injury. Most of the blood is localized around his torso, but there's smaller streaks that miscellaneously trail over the rest of his body. 

 

The door behind Diego's brother opens, the light from that room flooding out. Patch moves to wrap her arm around him, securing him, heart racing, as she pulls her gun out. 

 

Someone emerges from the room, and Patch lets go of Diego's brother to shoot at them without the brother in harm's way; the person ducks back into the room, and Diego's brother drops to the floor. She brings both hands to the gun, stabilizing her grip, and steps forward. 

 

"Police!" She shouts. "Drop the gun or you're going down!"

 

A well dressed arm extends out of the room, dropping a gun. "I'm coming out - don't shoot." 

 

"Two - " Diego's brother gasps from the floor. He must have freed his mouth from the tape. Patch doesn't spare him a glance.

 

"Drop the other gun first!" She warns. 

 

The well dressed arm freezes and then retracts. 

 

No one moves. 

 

"Two," Diego's brother says again, sounding out of it and in shock but maybe, Patch hopes, a little less foggy now. "There's _two!_ "

 

_"They came to my house!"_ Diego had told her. _"One's a woman."_

 

Patch readies herself, calm, steady. 

 

"No sudden movement from either of you." She calls out to the room. "Ma'am, surrender your gun."

 

There's a long minute of waiting, where nothing happens, before the gun is dropped by a well dressed, albeit different, arm than the first. 

 

"We're coming out." The first voice says calmly. "Just don't shoot." 

 

At the first sight of movement, Patch speaks. "Put your hands behind you heads, assholes." 

 

Slowly, slowly they both come out with their hands behind their head. Patch can feel them sizing up, weighing their odds, as they stare at her. She stares just the same towards them. 

 

It's - _strange_ to see the faces of the people she's been chasing when it had seemed so far out of reach earlier to find them. 

 

And Patch can see it, clear as day. These are two people that are not going to come quietly. 

 

"Hargreeves," She says, stern, never taking her eyes off of the two before her. "Hargreeves, I need you to go and get their guns." 

 

There's a tense moment of silence. 

 

The woman mutters something angrily to her partner, who merely looks downcast before refocusing on Patch. 

 

Diego's brother has obviously found a coat and thrown it on hastily, still clutching on to the towel as well, as he steps in to their line of sight. "After all that," He says, airily, like his voice isn't thick with tears, and Patch takes a breath, steadying herself at the sound of his _laughter._ He picks up one gun and puts it in a pocket on the inside of the coat, grabs the other gun and holds it. "All that, and you didn't even get my brother." 

 

"On your knees, keep your hands behind your head." Patch intervenes as soon as he's paused, not trusting the man and woman to remain placid in the face of taunting. She understands that it's probably cathartic to gloat over your captors, probably helps along the healing process, but she doesn't want to take any chances. "Hargreeves." Diego's brother doesn't move. "Hargreeves!" His head turns slightly. 

 

"Okay, yeah, that's a good point." He says and takes a hurried step backwards, aiming the gun at the woman. "Hazel, try to talk some sense into her. Because I'll shoot, and that detective's gonna shoot, and so you really should just - let us go. You don't even want me anyways!" He laughs, sounding more collected this time but still frayed. "You grabbed the wrong sibling, okay? You want my brother, grab someone else. And maybe leave a note next time, yeah?" 

 

Patch is sure she's watching some sort of breakdown. Which is understandable, sure, but it's not a good time for it. 

 

"Hargreeves. My side. Now." 

 

Diego's brother takes another step away from them - closer to her - and turns to face her. He doesn't look her in the eye but says, "Yeah, we _should_ go" as he comes nearer. 

 

She keeps her gun steady one handedly as she herds him behind her, towards the door, without taking her eyes off of her targets. 

 

The two criminals she's been searching for stare back at her. 

 

It's, by far, her best shot at catching them since the investigation began. It might be her only shot. 

 

They are sadistic, ruthless, brutal. They need to be off the streets, locked up. 

 

_They got the jump on Diego. Were vicious enough to kill his mom and take his brother. Things Diego would only allow over his dead body and yet they did it._

 

She grits her teeth. 

 

The two before her are tense, limbs ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. 

 

"Hargreeves." Her palm hits coat as she tries to herd him. "Come on." 

 

Taking the direction, Diego's brother scrambles out the door. She follows, backing up, never taking her eyes off the pair in front of her. 

 

She makes it out the doorframe. "Hold the door," She orders as she kicks it shut and sprints to where the housekeeping left her cart of supplies.

 

"What?" He asks but does so anyways. 

 

She rolls the cart in front of the door and grabs his arm, within seconds of having left him. "Run!" She's already dragging him before she finishes the word. 

 

It's then the door to the room is thrown open. Patch looks quickly. The woman goes crashing into the cart - _hard_ \- as she trips into it and topples over, trapping the man in the room for a good moment until he leaps over it. It's a delay that brings Patch enough time to make it to the railing of the staircase, Diego's brother pulled alongside, to start descending before either criminal has even managed to catch their footing. 

 

She lets go of Diego's brother to grab her car keys from her jacket pocket and then grabs him again. She doesn't trust the disorientated way he keeps looking around, heaving in breath as they reach the bottom of the stairs and hit the parking lot. She can't leave it up to him to follow as she pulls him towards her car, hearing footsteps clamoring after them. Time is of the essence. 

 

She unlocks her passenger door. "Get in." She orders him, already moving around the front of the car to unlock the driver side. 

 

A shot clips the car's hood, and she turns and fires off a shot at oncoming pair just finishing descending the stair. 

 

"Oh shit, oh shit." Diego's brother says from inside the car. 

 

One-handedly, she unlocks her door and shoots off another two shots to keep them at bay while she quickly climbs in the driver's seat. She jams the key in and slams the car into reverse. 

 

The passenger seat window shatters, and Diego's brother gasps. 

 

But it doesn't matter because Patch is already driving away, and she watches the two criminals in her rearview mirror stand by and only watch them drive away, not making to follow - knowing when they're beat. 

 

"Oh, God, I need to be sick. I need to be drunk. At least." Diego's brother mutters. "Shut up, shut up, shut up." 

 

She watches the sight of the motel far, far in her rearview mirror until she's satisfied that they're not giving pursuit, and only then does she let herself look at him. 

 

Diego's brother has his arms around himself, hands securing his coat and towel around his bloody, mostly bare body in white knuckled grips, one of the guns he secured on his lap, eyes squeezed closed. 

 

She should really take him to a hospital. 

 

"Hey," She says. He looks up and meets her gaze. "What's your name?" 

 

"Huh? Oh me? It's. It's Klaus." 

 

She strains to remember which one of Diego's siblings is Klaus but ultimately doesn't; he never did like talking about his siblings all that much. In the end, she supposes, it doesn't matter _which_ one he is anyways. 

 

"Klaus," She nods. "Would you like to go to a hospital?" Diego's br- _Klaus_ flinches at the idea. "Is there anywhere else I can take you?" She continues, ignoring his reaction while trying to figure out how else to see that he receives medical attention. "I left a message for your brother, but I - " Here she tries to tread carefully, "But I think he may be out, and I don't think you should be alone." 

 

Limpidly, Klaus shrugs with one shoulder. 

 

Patch inhales deeply. It's probably a better idea to send him to the hospital. But with those two still out there, could she really risk that? "I have a first aid kit at home." When Klaus looks at her, she smiles. "That was an offer, by the way."

 

Klaus' face crinkles in confusion but he nods. "Yeah, sure, it's whatever, uh, thanks." 

 

She takes him home. 

 

 

 

________________________________________________

 

 

 

Diego isn't waiting on the front porch when they get there. 

 

Her heart sinks, but she carries on. It was a slim to none chance anyways. Diego's brother moves from out of the car to her front door with colt limbs; she keeps a steady hand on his elbow. He jerks reflexively at her touch. 

 

She unlocks the door and gently guides him inside, wishing Diego were here. 

 

 

 

________________________________________________

 

 

 

Klaus seems like a new man after he showers. 

 

It's surprising. It's _concerning._

 

"Oh!" He says, surprised, and then looks up to see her entering the guest room. "Hello!" He wiggles his fingers cheerfully, deliberate in showing off the tattoo on his palm. He's grinning as if his face isn't bruised, as if his eyes aren't still swollen from crying, as if he's not clutching his borrowed robe tightly around himself as if in habit. "What was your name again?" He props his chin on one hand, leaning his arm on his knee, and stares at her as if in fascination. 

 

Patch frowns, uncertain of how to deal with this new side of Diego's brother, the energy that is seemingly here to stay. He's very unlike his brother, she muses. Diego tends to lash out in anger and pain, aiming to gain the upper hand until he exhausts himself emotionally enough to sit down and try to just _tell her_ what's wrong. Klaus, it seems, prefers to pretend that there _is_ nothing wrong. 

 

It's probably not a healthy coping mechanism to develop. Then again, it's hard to judge since it might not be a coping mechanism stemming from this incident alone. Diego's told her enough of his own childhood that she can assume that maybe this is an _old_ tried and true method for Klaus to deal with his trauma. 

 

"I'm Detective Patch." She answers calmly. "I'm a friend of your brother's. Diego." She adds on, a bit caught off guard as she remembers that there's a need to specify. She's never had to deal with more than one Hargreeves before; she's never _encountered_ another Hargreeves before. It's a little weird, especially because she's sure that most people that interact with the Hargreeves are more knowledge about that whole - _Academy thing_ they did. She knows the basics, of course, because she didn't live under a rock as a kid. But she never read that one book because by that point she had already befriended Diego, and she just...couldn't do that to him. 

 

Klaus lets out a soft noise of amusement. "Diego has friends?" He squints at her, drums his fingers against his chin in thought before using them to gesture towards her, wiggling his fingers vaguely. "Is that codeword for you're also a vigilante? Because I think you're lacking the leather for it." 

 

"I'm not a vigilante." Not for a lack of trying on Diego's part either. For a pessimist, he never seems to lose hope, his belief that one day she'll change her mind ridiculous...and kind of adorable when it's not just downright annoying. 

 

"And it's not that I don't think you could pull of the leather! You could!" He turns slightly, no longer focusing his wide eyes directly on her, and gestures wildly. "She totally could right? What? No, it's a _compliment._ She could totally be a sexy leather vigilante. How is that _not_ a compliment? What? How?" 

 

"I'm not a vigilante." She repeats, after glancing at the ceiling for a quick prayer. _Lord give her strength._  

 

Diego's brother doesn't look like he totally believes her, but then he abruptly shuts up about it after a strange grimace passes over his face. " _Oh,_ " He says in some sort of strange epiphany.

 

She doesn't know what to make from that. She doesn't ask. "I've got some clothes you can borrow." She tells him in the momentary lull where he visibly tries and collect his weirded-out facial expression. "I can help you - disinfect and tend your injuries before you get dressed or we can do it after." 

 

He grins suddenly. "'We can _do it_ after?'" He quotes while throwing her a - frankly ridiculous - smoldering look that was probably supposed to be flirty. His eyes are still darkened with tear trails of makeup; the disconnect between his worked-over appearance and his newfound carefree attitude is quite the contrast. 

 

She doesn't take the bait, ignores his attempt at innuendo. "After it is, then." She says simply, and goes to her room to get some of Diego's sweatpants. She could never bring herself to get rid of them, not when sometimes he'd show up to talk to her; she always offers the sweats, and it's a good indicator of where Diego's level of paranoia is if he can't feel safe enough even around her in the middle of the night to accept them and has to stay geared up in case of an attack, just in case he needs to be ready. 

 

She grabs an old oversized pajama shirt and an old pullover, adding it to the pile in her arms. She pauses and exchanges the pullover for a blanket - less strenuous on Klaus' injuries that way. 

 

She could grab the first aid kit as well but decides to leave it; it'll be a good excuse to leave the room when Klaus changes. She's used the method on Diego plenty of times, who didn't know how to ask someone for something like privacy and bristled uncomfortably when he attempted to do so, words catching before they could leave his mouth. 

 

"Here you are." She smiles as she reenters the guest room, sets down the stack of clothes on top of the guest dresser instead of approaching Klaus to hand them to him. "I'll be back - I have to go hunt for the first aid kit. It's around here _somewhere._ Take your time." 

 

She shuts the door. 

 

She always puts the first aid kit in the same exact spot, but Klaus doesn't need to know that. It's just an excuse to give him privacy. Diego so far has never commented on the charade, even after he well realized that it was just there for his benefit, that she _always_ knows where the first aid kit was. There's certain things that Diego can't verbalize, sure. But there's certain things, she thinks, that the Hargreeves were taught _not_ to say, punished for asking for. Such as privacy. 

 

Klaus and Diego are very different but they really aren't that different after all, so her approach to treating an injured Klaus is startlingly similar to her approach to treating an injured Diego. 

 

She just has to wait out the worst of it. And she's always been the patient sort. 

 

Well. Usually. 

 

She goes to front of the house, to the kitchen where the home phone hangs on the wall, calls the number to reach Diego at, and waits as it rings and rings and rings. She knows it's late. She winds the phone coil around her finger anxiously and calls and calls _and calls._ The boxing ring's phone doesn't have a voicemail system. It's definitely closed by now. She calls and calls and calls and keeps calling. 

 

"This is Detective Patch, calling again for Diego Hargreeves." She says as soon as it's picked up, doesn't wait this time for a reply before she continues talking, stampeeding over the voice on the other end as they try to say something, "Tell him that I've got his brother - he's safe - but make sure to tell him he needs to get over here as soon as he can." 

 

"Patch! Patch!" 

 

She closes her eyes, grips the phone tighter. She leans her forehead against the wall in relief. 

 

_Diego._

 

"Hey, hey," He says softly, worriedly, "I just got in and just got your first message. What's - what's going on?" 

 

She opens her eyes. "How soon can you get to my place?" 

 

"I'll leave right now - you okay? You went in without any backup...?" 

 

Exhaustion weighs upon her. "Yeah, Diego, I'm fine. We'll talk more when you get here, okay? You can just come straight in." 

 

Someone else might have said 'I'll leave the door unlocked.' But Diego could jimmy locked doors. Him always waiting on her front porch to surprise her instead inside of her front living room was his way of respecting her boundaries. His way of being respectful. 

 

_"This is your home."_ He had said once when she had asked him about it. It been been raining; he had waited all night outside even though he could pick locks and knew where she kept the spare key. _"I won't come in unless you ask me. Not without your permission, Eudora."_  

 

Diego always thought himself as broken, but Patch has always admired him for the way he _tries_ to be better than where he came from. To learn and become that better person. Maybe sometimes she's a little too disappointed in him when he just doesn't get it - why he shouldn't be above the law, why he shouldn't interfere in investigations even if he claims he's helping - but sometimes she thinks that she just has high hopes for him because she knows how _good_ he can be. 

 

Diego always has said that it's a lot of work to unlearn all the bullshit his dad has taught him, to relearn what's wrong versus what his father has _told_ him is wrong. 

 

But Diego's never been afraid of working hard, and neither is she.

 

She glances at the decorative clock in her kitchen, squares her shoulders. "Everyone's fine. See you when you get here." She says with gentle but firm finality. 

 

"See you...Eudora." He hangs up before she can reply not to call her that. It's an old song and dance for them, familiar and welcome. 

 

She places the phone on the receiver and heads to get the first aid kit. This, too, is an old song and dance. Just with a different partner. 

 

 

 

________________________________________________

 

 

 

Klaus is overly animated, dramatic in each motion and facial expression. He's lively and vivacious. He laughs loud and bright.

 

He also flinches every time she moves towards him. 

 

Patch purses her lips, but she doesn't say anything about it. Klaus continues on with his story of one time when he poured a bag of M&M's into a bowl of Skittles at a party and got punched into face when they discovered it was him that did it, gesticulating grandly, laughing, as he recalls the chaotic tale. 

 

By the time she finishes cleaning and bandaging his torso, he's segued into a few more stories. But his hands settle into the blanket she's given him and wrap it around his shoulders, holding on tightly instead of gesturing to near pantomime levels as he had done earlier. 

 

"And then so I said to her, 'Uh, ma'am, that's a little _too_ kinky for me and might require a stunt double.' Which I don't think is that unreasonable. I mean! While _bungee-jumping?_ And if _I'm_ being the voice of reason, you _know_ it's time to skedaddle." 

 

Patch smiles. 

 

"The worst of it's over." She interrupts decisively. "Do you want anything for the pain before we continue?" 

 

His entire face lights up. "What do you got?" His face quickly falls into dismay as she begins listing the different over the counter options she has stockpiled. "What about alcohol?" He asks. "Whiskey? Vodka?"

 

"I have rosé?" She tends to only drink socially, and the bottle's leftover from a brunch with friends.

 

Klaus pulls a face but then asks, "Well, how _much_ rosé are we talking about here?" 

 

"Half a bottle." 

 

"Why the hell would - no, okay, whatever." He rubs his face with both palms and sighs. "Do you have...water?" He asks, sounding pained by the word. 

 

"I do." She pauses. "But would you like some hot chocolate or coffee?" 

 

"Oh thank fuck." He whispers, looking at her with wide and thankful eyes. "Both! Yeah, both. Fuck, is that rude?" He asks, stares to the side in contemplation and waits for a moment, and then says. "It just - I am having a really hard time with this sober shit, and I really, really want both, so like. Since she offered."

 

"You can have both." She assures him, smiling at him sadly. His larger than life persona can't erase the image from her mind of when she first found him. It hasn't even been an hour. "Come on." She cocks her chin towads the door. "Let's move this to the kitchen. And we can wait for your brother in there." 

 

Klaus eyes her in confusion but stands up readily, blanket firmly grasped around him. "Uh, wait for my brother?"

 

Patch is admittedly a little surprised by the uncertainty in his voice. "Diego called back. He's on his way."

 

"Oh. _Huh._ " Klaus says softly and follows her out the guest room. 

 

 

 

________________________________________________

 

 

 

"Can I get you anything else?" She offers as they wait for the coffee to brew. She leans against the kitchen counter and waits for it to be ready while the kettle for hot chocolate heats up on her stovetop. "Food? Water?" 

 

Klaus' face lights up; he's seated on a kitchen chair. "Food! Oh, oh!" He stops, lets out a puff of air as he visibly deliberates. "What should I ask for? What sounds good?" His gaze slides back to the decorative clock hanging on the wall, not looking at Patch directly. " _I know that._ Come on, you know I can't decide by myself - no, not eggs." 

 

Patch is...really concerned about the way he continues rambling, absorbed in his own thoughts and answering to them without even looking at her. He broke off into tangents while telling his stories earlier, but now he's blatantly talking to himself. She knows that just because he has seemed joyful doesn't mean that he's okay - that he's still traumatized from being kidnapped and tortured. It's just that she had been _hoping_ for Diego to be here when he started breaking down: a familiar face to help clmpfrt and soothe him. 

 

"We'd like pancakes." Klaus announces, eyes back on her for just a moment before he taps his fingers against the table like a one man marching band imitation in what seems to be an old habit, pleased with himself, and then looks back to the clock. 

 

Patch's smile falls. _'We?'_

 

"We?" She finally asks, so very gently but unable to resist. She's curious. 

 

"Oh. Yeah." Klaus blinks slowly, and then his gaze focuses again on her instead of just askew of her clock. And then he says, tone very matter of factly casual, "I'm kind of being haunted by my brother. He says 'hello.'" 

 

It's with sudden clarity then that she realizes which brother Klaus is. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a oneshot, but I got carried away while planning it. So I decided to expand it into a multi-chapter and slowly post as I go instead of working on one really long oneshot that will never see the light of day. Updates will be slow because I am slow. 
> 
> Hope you liked it!


	2. Because Their Words Had Forked No Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback, what a feeling. Keep believing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter is a flashback to before (netflix) canon and uses past tense to help differentiate between flashback (this chapter) and current-story (other chapters) without it all in italics. Patch and Diego are still dating at this point.

________________________________________________

 

Diego had been unsettled - obviously so.

 

"How was your day?" Patch had asked, inviting him to share his burden if he had wanted to. Diego had paused, water bottle halfway to his mouth, frozen, silent and subtle in his alarm.

 

"Fine." He had said, had avoided her gaze guiltily. But then he had looked up again and had smiled. "Hey, weren't you going to send out invitations today for the party? How was _your_ day?" And he had waited, rapturous and reverent, for her answer.

 

"Yeah, yeah that was supposed to be today." She had accepted his unacknowledged wish for her to not press him about his day easily. His shoulders relaxed. "Turns out Barney's wife is having a baby shower on the same day, so I decided to maybe wait and do it the weekend after. I'm gonna update the Facebook requests and send them tomorrow, but I wanted to check with you first, make sure you're not busy."

 

Diego's eyebrows had raised.

 

"Oh you know me." He had said dryly. "I'm just _super busy,_ like, _all the time_."

 

"Oh, shut up." Patch had laughed. "I just thought I would ask."

 

"And I appreciate that." Diego had replied, still amused. "But I have literally nothing going on for about - oh, I don't know. The indeterminable future?"

 

It had said a lot about Diego's ongoing progress with his therapist because he could sometimes now joke about being having been kicked out of the police academy. On some days, he hadn't been able to manage anything but a heavy bitterness. But today was a day that he had been able to joke about it, without sending himself into a self depreciating spiral of anger and hurt.

 

"So," Diego had smiled. "You think the chief will wear an ugly sweater for the party?"

 

Patch had smiled. "No, but I've got him in our Secret Non-Denominational Gift Exchange, and he's getting one, like it or not. I found the perfect sweater: it's got a cop car with snowflakes, super subtle but still wintery."

 

Diego had laughed. "He's not going to wear it just because it's a gift, you know.

 

And that had been that. They had drifted on to an easier topic than whatever had been haunting Diego's thoughts earlier: the winter sweater party Patch had been planning for work. Plus ones were allowed, of course, and so Diego and her eagerly had discussed possibilities of their own attire, as well as her colleagues' potential attire or lack therefore of, well into the evening.

 

It had been a soft evening that had soothed away both of their worries, had massaged away stress from their shoulders and gentled it into contentment. It had been just another day amongst the many, many days where they had tried their damn best to heal from past wounds - and had counted their success in the soft harmony of the evening they allowed themselves to enjoy without feeling guilty for being happy despite - being sad at the same time. Feelings were complex, and to allow themselves to be happy even when they were unhappy? It was a tried and true method for them, who were practicing feelings like contentment without guilt, self care without feeling selfish.

 

There were days that they had steeped in their sadness, had shouted their anger at the world and had spat fire. Part of allowing themselves to be happy was allowing themselves to be unhappy too. To let themselves acknowledge their feelings and express those emotions conductively - and sometimes not conductively but safely. Well. It had been a work in progress - Diego came back from many late nights with that ridiculous leather getup - but _mostly_ safely. They were both a work in progress, but they were progressing, so.

 

So she and Diego had pretended like he hadn't been upset when he had walked through her front door because that had been what he had needed. Needed in order to process his emotions, needed in order to shift gears from upset to content - which he had _wanted_ that day. That day, they both had submerged themselves into an easy routine, familiar and warm like a the weathered wornness of a beloved sweater pulled over them as a layer of contentment.

 

There was no other word to describe them in that evening but for content. And they had worked _damn_ hard in order to feel that way.

 

________________________________________________

 

 

"My brother Ben died." Diego had said suddenly at long last, hours later, and she had known then that whatever had been bothering him earlier was related to this. She had looked up from the book she was reading, had set it aside on her nightstand as Diego had climbed into the bed beside her. "And, uh, it was hard. Shit, it was hard."

 

"Diego." She had said softly, bringing a hand to his shoulder. He had always minimally tensed before he would lean into the comfort; it had always made her want to reach out more to him, soothe away all his sorrows that made him initially flinch from tenderness when he so clearly yearned for it.

 

"On all of us," He had continued, as if nothing had happened, but his face had cleared some at her support. "Especially since this was only a little while after our other brother..." He had paused. "Disappeared. Died. Depends on who you ask. So uh. We all were having a rough time, but, uh." He had cleared his throat. Talking about his family had been impossible at the beginning of their friendship; by the time they had started dating, he had tentatively breached the subject only a handful of times; but by now, she was well accustomed to hearing about his past whenever he had wanted to talk about it. Usually though, he had talked about his father in angry, hurt tangents. Sometimes he had talked about his mother - wistfully, sadly, but with a trace of betrayed anger that he couldn't explain without changing the subject back to his father. It had been rare indeed for him to talk about his siblings, although Patch had known that he had many of them.

 

"My brother Klaus had been drinking and doing drugs way before both of them died. So when Ben died, it wasn't really like anything had changed for Klaus. But then there'd be moments where Klaus would talk to himself. And at first, we didn't pay attention to it because, well, Klaus is _always_ talking, saying really, really stupid shit. Especially because he's always high. We thought - we thought it was that."

 

Diego had taken a deep breath. "And then he took it to a whole new level. I don't even remember who realized what he was doing, but everyone was so mad when we put together what was going on. He was talking to himself and claiming he was talking to Ben."

 

Patch had stared. "But Ben was dead."

 

Diego snorted. "Yeah. Well. That's the punchline isn't it. Klaus is the Seance. When he's sober, he can summon spirits and talk to them, which must have been where he got the idea from in the first place. But then he started to claim Ben was following him - unsummoned - and that Ben was having conversations with him in between bouts of being high and drunk."

 

"Was he?" Family issues were only further complicated when - when _powers_ were involved, she had thought then.

 

"Yeah, no." Diego had snorted again, that time had dragged a hand tiredly down his face. "We _thought_ that he'd get over it as soon as he realized it wouldn't get him any attention though."

 

"But he didn't," She had guessed when Diego had paused for a while. Navigating the supernatural was one thing, but she had considered herself pretty decent at navigating Diego.

 

"But he didn't." Diego had repeated, sighing, and continued on with his story. "At first, I thought it was him being a dick that always crosses the line too far just to get attention. But it wasn't that. For Klaus, it's real. He really thinks he's talking to Ben. And I'm not - " Diego had let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not the right person to help with _mental issues_ for fuck's sake. But..."

 

Patch had gently squeezed her grip on his shoulder. "Hey, it'll be okay."

 

Diego had looked uncertain. 

 

"I'm the only one who doesn't act like he's crazy for pretending to talk to Ben. The only one who doesn't tell him to stop anymore. And I don't know if I'm doing the right thing or not - if this is me encouraging his delusion - but I just...." Diego's sigh had been terribly deep, and Patch's heart had ached for him. "I know it's screwed up. I know, okay? But I just - I think he's happy pretending to have Ben. I mean - " He had broken off, looking smaller and hunched, "As happy as anyone of us _can_ be. And, well, as long as he doesn't do it infront of the others, I figure it's not _really_ hurting anyone. Not to mention, when he's 'talking' to Ben, _he's sober._ And even if's it just for an hour or two here and there, I want to support that. No matter what it takes."

 

"Has he ever thought about rehab?" She had asked, trying to find some way to help him.

 

Diego had just snorted.

 

"Okay," Patch had said slowly. "So your brother acts out fantasies about talking to your other brother - "

 

"Who's dead." Diego had interjected dryly, as uncensored as always even when it would hurt himself in the process.

 

"Who is dead." She had added on with a calm nod. "Do you ever think he might be lonely?" Diego had eyed her as if she had said the moon was made of cheese. "What? All I'm saying is - maybe he's a bit lonely and doesn't know how to reach out or communicate it."

 

Diego had frowned, more thoughtful then.

 

"I saw him today." Diego had said casually, like that tone wasn't hiding layers and layers of emotions underneath their faux ease. "He saw me too. Asked for a ride - can't drive because he's never fucking sober enough, you know?" Diego had taken a deep breath, paused to be able to maintain his faux casual demeanor that had escalated for one moment but had been contained in the space between an inhale and an exhale. "He said he'd be waiting for me, same place, same time, just next week. Didn't wait to head no for an answer before he took off, so I mean. It's his own fault if I don't show up."

 

"You've been avoiding your family." She had said, had tried to proceed with caution but hadn't wanted to take too long weighing her words because it would make Diego uneasy. "And it seems like it upset you to see him today."

 

"So you think that I shouldn't drive him." He had said, not questioned, nodding slowly.

 

"Diego," She had smiled. "I think you should do what's best for _you._ Whatever makes you happy."

 

He had closed his eyes for a moment before his mouth had twisted upwards wryly. "I really don't think you should be encouraging me to stab my father." She had shoved at his shoulder, and he had laughed. "What? Nothing would make me happier! Except maybe if he had never adopted me."

 

"Oh my Lord, Diego." She had muttered, the joke ridiculous - but oh so Diego. "You knew what I meant."

 

"Hey, you said it. 'Whatever makes me happy!'" Diego had quoted gleefully, had taken his joke and had held to it.

 

"You're impossible." She had said, had hidden her smile against her pillow because there had no need to encouraged him and his ridiculousness.

 

Diego had scoffed lightly. "Yeah. Well. That kind of runs in my family."

 

 

 

________________________________________________

 

 

 

"How'd it go?" She had asked, a week later. She had been dreading this all day, had worried about the possible ramifications of Diego seeing a family member, that it could set him back because progress wasn't linear, and family had a certain way of tearing down walls that had seemingly been fortified by time and therapy until only uncertain dust remained.

 

Diego's face had scrunched unhappily. "It went okay. Could have gone better."

 

She had nodded pensively at his answer. "Anything in particular go wrong?" 

 

"Well," He had replied, mouth pursed. "He tried to steal my watch, he didn't have enough money for rent so I ended up _giving_ him the damn watch, I'm pretty sure he's used to being homeless off and on, and I'm absolutely sure that he's going to use my watch for drug money instead of his rent and end up homeless again, and on top of it all he's still pretending to talk to Ben. So. Could have gone better."

 

She had stared, wide-eyed, for a moment too long before she had managed to reach out her hand to place on Diego's arm softly.  

 

Unhappily, Diego had said, "Yeah. So basically? Everything."

 

She had wondered then if maybe she should have advised Diego against the reunion, should have stopped him from seeing any member of his family.  

 

"Is there anything that went right?" She had asked eventually, hesitant to even know the answer in case it was 'no' after all.

 

Diego's entire body had stiffened at the question. It had taken him several minutes of quiet to unlock his muscles from that tension. She had waited patiently while he had done so, had taken his time unabashedly - which had been such improvement for Diego - and after this conversation, Patch had softly suggested that he tell his therapist about it because it had been such improvement for him to _allow himself time_ to get himself more comfortable.

 

"It was... nice to see him again." Diego had said at last; his voice had been a soft whisper.  

 

"Oh. Well that's good."

 

Her words had seemed to strike a chord in him, and at last Diego had smiled. 

 

"Yeah. Yeah, it was nice."

 

The Hargreeves family had always been a looming shadow hanging over Diego's head, eternally haunting him - especially with past childhood trauma still unresolved. It had been nice - more than nice - to see Diego mention one of those Hargreeves and be able to smile _within the same day_ for once.

 

Above all, it had given Patch some hope.

 

She had wondered at the time if, despite it all, it had given Diego some hope as well.  

 

That maybe - just maybe - things could shape up to be a little better, a little more tolerable at least, a little less terrible if nothing else. That maybe, admist the terribleness and the brokeness, that there were some good things left hidden and waiting to be discovered. Some bridges that wouldn't hurt Diego because he couldn't mend them instead of burning them.

 

That even if every other Hargreeves were shit, if every other Hargreeves were terrible and toxic and bad for him, Diego could learn - and was learning - to cope with that and not give up on the progress he had fought tooth and nail and blood to achieve.

 

You can't change people; you can only try to change yourself - and Diego was _trying_. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to current-plot time next chapter (no more chapters of flashback-ing are planned for this story) Interestingly enough, this chapter is what made me decide to make this a multichapter instead of a oneshot because I wanted to have the flashback in its own chapter and then I just decided to expand the entire plot while I was at it.
> 
> And I just want to send a massive thank you to everyone - you guys have been so outstanding in the reception of this story. I am utterly floored by the response. <3


	3. Who See With Blinding Sight

 

 

 

In the end, she doesn't have the ingredients to make pancake batter after all.  

 

Klaus instead accepts the redundant offer of water that the both of them keep awkwardly using to fill the silence in between his mugs and mugs of hot chocolate. Each refill, he wraps his fingers against the scalding sides of the ceramic mugs before they can begin to cool and inhales deeply like the gentle spiraling steam is cigarette smoke.

 

Through it all, Klaus talks.

 

Patch is only just now starting to notice the details that earlier she's overlooked: the trembling fingers not from stress or shock but from withdrawal, the eyes rarely meeting hers are not focusing just shy of her kitchen clock but instead are staring at where Klaus is projecting his brother's fantasized ghost to stand. The occasional lapsing of pronouns from singular to plural is truly only the surface of Klaus' tells that he is struggling.

 

She hopes, not for the first time nor for the last, that Diego gets here soon. 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Upon arrival, Diego knocks rapidly three times on the front door. In the time it takes Patch to exit the kitchen and get there, he's already knocked six more times. 

 

She swings the door open, and his worried face softens. 

 

"Hey," He greets as he steps through the threshold and then sighs, bracing himself. "How bad is it?"

 

"It was pretty bad," She warns him. "But...he's going to be okay. He's in the kitchen, safe." She inclines her head, and Diego follows her to the kitchen. 

 

"How dangerous?" Diego asks, slightly inarticulate in his concern. 

 

"I got to him in time," She assures him. Does not say anything but that. 

 

"Shit," Diego whispers, and she knows that he understands that what she means is: 'we're both lucky to be alive.'

 

When she steps into the kitchen, Klaus is dumping another packet of hot chocolate powder into his umpteenth mug of the beverage and he looks up at her entrance. And then his gaze passes her and she knows his mascara stained gaze is staring at Diego, surprise blossoming over his tired features. 

 

"Klaus," Diego registers the sight of his brother and then falters, steps pausing. "Klaus, what happened?"

 

"What _happened, Diego,_ is that I got kidnapped by two psycho murder bitches." Klaus rolls his eyes and resumes stirring his hot chocolate. "I thought that was obvious." 

 

Diego's hands curl into fists at his side, his frown deepens. "Where was this? _When_ was this?" 

 

"Oh, you didn't notice?" Klaus asks breezily and flutters his eyelashes. "I'm flattered, really." He lifts his mug and takes a large gulp,  grimacing at the temperature. 

 

"Klaus, be serious." Diego's frown deepens as he finally steps fully into the kitchen, eyes taking in his brother's condition and not liking what he finds.

 

"Ha!" Klaus scoffs. "Okay, sure, whatever, big bro." Patch is _pretty_  sure that all of the Hargreeves children are the _exact_ same age but doesn't ask. He raises his mug of hot chocolate to his lips and looks away, not taking a sip but poised to do as it blocks his mouth from view but Patch is sure he's frowning. She knows what he thinks he's looking at but she doesn't have any way to communicate to Diego that Klaus is currently experiencing his delusions; Diego, she's sure, can figure it out without her announcing it and possibly making Klaus uncomfortable. 

 

"Um," Klaus says to neither of them. "I don't _think_ so, Ben. Why the fuck would I do that? What? No, I'm _fine_." 

 

Patch sees the way the words hit Diego, how his shoulders lower like a colossal weight has been added on top of them. And then he lifts that weight, rolls his shoulders back, straightens his spine, and folds his arms across his chest. Ready.

 

"Klaus," Diego says firmly. "If - if _Ben_ doesn't think you're okay, then you're not okay. Let us help you."

 

Klaus' sharp, surprised inhale is distinctly audible. In quick succession, his eyes frantically look between Diego and the blank space near the clock where he believes Ben to be. 

 

"I'm fine. I don't need help." Klaus scoffs and then swivels his entire body to face the wall. "Shut _up_ , Ben. No, no, shit, I'm sorry, okay? You know I'm just a little stressed out. Shit. _Shit_."

 

"Klaus?" Patch asks, worried. 

 

Klaus looks to her like he forgot she was even there. 

 

"Is there anything that can help you calm down?" Diego asks gently. And then scowls as Klaus opens his mouth, makes sure to cut him off quickly, " _Besides_  the drugs."

 

Klaus primly closes his mouth and rolls his eyes. 

 

"Well," Klaus says loftily like he's only indulging Diego's concern out of obligation, "I _guess_ I could take a bath but _considering_ that the last time I took a soak, I was kidnapped and tortured, I'm not feeling inclined to take my chances." 

 

Patch doesn't mention that he only just finished showering. Besides, there's still makeup trailing down Klaus' eyes in tear tracks like visible proof of his previous distress. 

 

Diego frowns. "What if I was outside the whole time? There's no window in the bathroom. No one would be able to get to you, they'd have to go through me first."

 

Klaus eyes him silently for a moment in what Patch thinks looks a lot like wonder. "Sure, whatever floats your boat." He shrugs. 

 

Diego nods, once, to himself and strides out of the kitchen. 

 

"Come on," Patch says to Klaus. "Bathtub's this way."

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Diego leans against the bathroom door as he sits, legs sprawling lazily on the floor and feet touching the other side of the narrow hallway.

 

He glances at her, moves his feet, drawing up one leg and bending his knee. It's an unspoken invitation. She sinks down to sit across from him, joining him.

 

"Thanks for everything, Patch." Diego says softly, facing her with genuine emotion on his face that he's never shied away from showing because he has worked so hard to do so unashamedly. He pauses, and she waits as he collects his thoughts together to form words and sentences. "It means - it means a lot to me. What you did for Klaus."

 

"Of course, Diego." She says, but he shakes his head.

 

"I wasn't there. I wasn't _there,_ Patch. He could have died, and I wouldn't have even known. You being there for him - " He sighs, looks up to the wallpapered ceiling she still has yet to update. "You saved his life."

 

She nods. It's not a sure thing but it's not an unreasonable statement to make, and she won't argue with it.

 

Diego sighs again, and her heart hurts for him.

 

"So what now?" She asks. It's not the question he's expecting. He once again looks back at her.

 

"Now? Now I keep sentry while my brother takes a bath because he's afraid of being taken off guard again."

 

She had assumed it was Diego's need to be close to his brother due to his guilt that kept him on guard duty; it's somewhat of a relief to hear that he's doing it to help soothe his brother's worries. His voice is laden with guilt and self deprecation but this is, she feels, the better of scenarios. He's channeling his feelings in a healthier outlet than she had suspected if he's doing his brother a favor.

 

They sit quietly. They're in this together now. 

 

They merely sit and listen as Klaus' voice periodically rises from the slightly cracked bathroom door into the hallway as he sings only to then dull to a mumbling incoherence as he quiets, only to repeat the process. If she's to hazard a guess, he's louder on the select lyrics he is more confident on knowing and quieter on the ones he's not certain that he knows by heart.

 

Diego's face scrunches into confusion. "Is he singing Hayley Kiyoko?"  

 

Patch listens more carefully to the words. As if on cue - and it very well might be - Klaus raises his voice once more.

 

_"I don't wanna talk about it, I don't wanna think about it. I just feel alone, feel alone."_

 

"Mmm," She says noncommittally but now is extremely sure that it _is_ a Hayley Kiyoko song he's singing.

 

Diego's face turns pensive, but he doesn't say anything else.

 

Patch doesn't say anything either. Diego closes his eyes and, absentmindedly, starts to mouth the words along silently in time with Klaus' singing.

 

She's going to have the song 'Sleepover' stuck in her head for a week, at the least. She can't bring herself to mind; she closes her eyes as well, lips moving silently to form the lyrics as well even when Klaus' voice quiets down again from behind the door. She's extremely bi, and she knows the words to most Hayley Kiyoko songs by heart.

 

Klaus' voice falters.

 

Diego's eyes shoot open. 

 

And then Klaus' singing resumes, looping the song over again from the very start; Diego sighs, relieved.

 

"Are we going to talk about what happened?" Patch asks softly. She doesn't want to push but she _deserves_ to know. 

 

"Yeah." The way Diego looks at her is so familiar. Unflinching and resolute. It always made her feel like, if they worked together, they could take on anything; it still does. 

 

He pauses, collecting his thoughts, and then speaks. "So apparently," His smile is sardonic and bitter. "It's the end of the world." 

 

He's not joking.

 

"I'm going to need a lot more than that," She says, slowly, and her entire body feels numb. 

 

Diego is utterly serious. He stares at her somberly. "Here's what we know so far."

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles are quotes from Dylan Thomas' poem "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night"  
> Story title is "Get Better" by Frank Turner, which in hindsight has such UA vibes. (Shoutout to my dearheart who tried to help me with the title only to have me go off and pick song lyrics without them. You're the best, darling)


End file.
